Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Oh, and what do we have here? Crying are we? Soon you will surely have something to cry about, My Lady.”

  “Stop. Bruce. This must stop.” Olivia stepped towards him and Phoebe.

  “You do not order me, Olivia McGowan, giving yourself airs. You’ve supped with the peerage as one of their own this eve. It will be the last time.”

  “You must stop. Now.” Olivia ran towards the man, meaning to startle him.

  “Olivia, no,” Phoebe and Mary cried in unison as Wallace drove the blade into her torso. She bent forward for a moment, and then collapsed to the floor. Carlisle went to her.

  “Olivia. Olivia.” He turned to the group. “She needs the doctor.” In the meantime, Carlisle removed his cravat and pressed the fabric against the wound. He looked up at Wallace, “You shall pay dearly for this,” he hissed.

  Wallace wiped the knife clean on the dirty buckskin pantaloons he wore. He threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t you bon ton types understand anything? You are all to die this night. It really makes no difference to me what order it happens in, except for you.” He turned his attention to Atwater. “You shall be last, Your Grace.”

  “You do not frighten any of us with your bullying tactics, Mr Wallace. Carlisle, untie these bindings.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort, Carlisle, or I’ll finish off your little Olivia right now. Now, if you would care to negotiate, hmm, you might consider, Duke Atwater, calling off the charges you have made against Charlotte Evans. She will be released and will run away with me, of course. Then the two of us shall be out of your hair, so to speak, forever.”

  “The two of you will be out of my hair forever after I press further charges against you, Wallace. Now, Carlisle,” Atwater gestured with his head and lifted his arms behind him as far as he could.

  Wallace stepped in front of Atwater. “If you untie these men, Carlisle, remember what I said. I will kill Olivia. Slowly.”

  Phoebe and Mary huddled together on the sofa and stood so Carlisle could place Olivia where she would be more comfortable.

  The two women sat at the table. Olivia moaned faintly as she was moved.

  Chapter 23

  “Evans.”

  Charlotte was trying to sleep, something she found that eluded her these days. The more she entertained the idea, the more she was resolved to go to America. She was aware that Bruce would want to go with her, but she wanted a clean start. She wanted to go where no one else would know her or her past.

  She pulled the blanket over her head in an attempt to block out the voices that kept her from her dream planning.

  “Evans.” There is was again. It was the guard. Charlotte lifted herself from the bed and went to the tiny opening that served as a window to her cell.

  “What is it now?” She wiped the sleep from her eyes and smoothed her chignon.

  “You’re to come with me.” The cell door opened. “Put these on.” He handed her the leg shackles. “And don’t try anything cute.”

  “What is this about?” Charlotte squelched the panic that was rising inside her. She hadn’t done murder. That was the only crime that came with a death sentence. Even attempted murder didn’t get the death penalty. Even attempted murder against a Duke or Duchess. Could it be possible that her trial would be now?

  “Move, woman.” The lieutenant was noticeably sharp.

  When she had the shackles on, the lieutenant bound her hands behind her back and let her out of the room. She was guarded more securely than she’d been previously. Something must have happened, a change in protocol, for her to be guarded so thoroughly. They could not lawfully hang her without a trial in which she could defend herself. Then, if the verdict came up guilty, she would ask to be sent to America.

  There was no guarantee that supplied a ticket to America except a second chance. There was absolutely no guarantee that a second chance would be had. And going to America was what Charlotte now desired much more than becoming a Duchess.

  The lieutenant led her to the public sitting room where she’d seen and spoken to Judith and Jorge. Everything was as it had been the last time she’d been in this room some months ago. She had a moment of sadness remembering her little Robert and signing her rights as his mother away.

  But it had been for the best. Lady Judith had promised to write and let Charlotte know details of her child’s life. As long as Charlotte stayed away, Judith would uphold the bargain. But if Charlotte ever tried to see the child, the arrangement would immediately be null and void.

  Not that it mattered much. Charlotte would tell no one where she was headed once she was out of this prison.

  “Sit.” The lieutenant’s hand pushed down on her shoulder.

  “What is this about?” Charlotte wanted to know. She feared they might be trying her at this very moment. She’d planned what her defence would be. Each night before she fell asleep, she’d envisioned herself convincing the judges that she’d done nothing that could be proven against her. But, as she waited in the reception room for whoever was coming, her well laid plans fell away from her.

  “You’ll see what it’s about.” The lieutenant left the room, slamming the heavy door shut behind him.

  Charlotte sat alone and tried not to think. What could this be about? She grew even more frightened. What if they decided to hang her after all? It was night time. To her knowledge, no one was ever hanged at night. The example had to be made. There were so few executions that the crowd would turn to a mob if they missed one.

  The door squeaked open, and Colonel Drake walked into the room. He took a seat opposite Charlotte at the table. “Well?”

  She said nothing, only looked at him.

  “Where is Wallace? I saw you speak to him briefly just the other morning when you were having your daily walk. Where did he go?”

  “Wallace? I know not of what you speak, Colonel. Yes, I spoke to Mr Wallace that morning, but only about the inclement weather of late.”

  “You expect me to believe that two days ago you spoke about the weather with your former lover, and now he’s gone, and you know nothing about it?”

  “Bruce is gone?”

  “Yes. Escaped today. Now, let’s try this again, or we can set up the dowsing pool.”

  He was threatening her with torture as a means of getting information from her. Information she did not have. Time was of the essence. She racked her brain. Where would Bruce go? Her head began to throb. She wished she could rub her temporals to gain some relief.

  “You have one minute, Miss Evans. Then you shall be taken to the pool.”

  The Colonel sat back.

  Where would he go? And then, as if it had been in her mind the entire time, she made a quick plan.

  “What will be given me if I tell you?”

  “So you know?”

  “I might. He’s told me nothing, but I know him well. I know the way he thinks.”

  “You will not be tortured for an answer if you just give it to me.”

  “No. I want something. And if you consent to it, in writing, I will tell you.”

  “Very well. What are your terms?”

  “If I should be sentenced to prison?”

  “Yes?”

  It was the moment of truth. At the very least, it would get her out of being tortured for information she didn’t have. And she knew they didn’t really want to torture her. It was an idle threat to get her to talk. If she did things right, she could have an entirely new life. She decided to lay all her cards on the table.

  “First, I would like your guarantee, Colonel.”

  “You have my word, Miss Evans.”

  “I should like your word in writing.”

  “Oh, in writing, is it?”

  “Yes, Sir. You see, I have not met a great many men I’ve been able to trust in my life. This guarantee, we’re about to create, concerns my future. I ask you to respect that.”

  The Colonel sighed. “Very well. Lieutenant, fetch me paper and ink. He scribbled out the docu
ment and hastily signed. “There. Done. Where is he?”

  “Will you not have the lieutenant sign? As a witness?”

  Once again, Drake let out a huge sigh and slid the page across the table towards where the lieutenant guarded the door.

  “There. It is done.”

  “And may I be given the document?”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Evans.” He walked around behind her chair and handed the paper into her bound hands.

  She smirked. “I will read the agreement.”

  “You will tell me where Bruce Wallace is. And you will do so this very instant.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes to appear nonchalant. The only reason Bruce would escape without alerting her would be if he were going to see Duke Atwater. To exact revenge. She prayed it was true and took a slow deep breath.

  “If I were you, Colonel Drake, I should look at Duke Atwater’s townhouse, on Regent Street, for Bruce Wallace. He is a vindictive man.” She exhaled.

  “Atwater? He’s pressing the charges of attempted murder on Wallace.”

  “Yes, and as I said, Bruce Wallace is a vindictive man.”

  “Take her back to her cell, then report back here,” Colonel Drake said to the lieutenant.

  *******

  Olivia was white as a sheet. Carlisle still held his cravat to the wound in her abdomen but realized it was not mortal. It was not even severe. He looked at Olivia with admiration. A brilliant distraction.

  The girl had bunched up her dress in front and bent forward when Wallace stabbed her. It had been a trick, something she must have learned somewhere deep in her past. Something which Bruce Wallace was not familiar with. But Carlisle was well aware of the trick when Olivia put her hand on his wrist. She spoke to him with her eyes, which seemed to say, play along.

  Carlisle sat back from the sofa. He was stooping on the floor. “My man, this young lady needs a doctor.”

  “Well, I daresay that’s too bad. She’s going to die anyway, although I am allowing Duke Atwater two more hours to decide to drop all the charges against Charlotte.”

  “Why are you doing this, Mr Wallace?” Phoebe pleaded.

  “You’d do well to keep to yourself, Your Grace. Or you will be next.” Wallace snarled and made eye contact with each of the hostages.

  He was goading them. Carlisle took a deep breath. The interloper clearly underestimated them. Carlisle again stroked Olivia’s hair.

  “Get away from her. Sit over there.” Wallace gestured to the table, and Duke Carlisle did as he was told. He feared Wallace would up and kill Olivia.

  Wallace picked up the carafe of madeira. Clean brandy glasses had been set up on the side table for after supper refreshment for the men. “Ah. Madeira. A lovely wine. The Spanish know their wine business.” He lifted one of the brandy glasses and filled it with the wine. He drained the glass and walked around the room looking at some of the items within it. He came back to the side table and poured another snifter full of wine.

  Carlisle was waiting for the perfect opportunity. He extricated his pen knife from his vest and pushed it up his sleeve. Wallace’s back had been turned for just a moment, but it was enough time. Atwater saw the gesture, and the two made eye contact.

  Phoebe and Mary still sat together at the table, tears streaming down Mary’s face.

  “Mr Wallace, may I see to Miss McGowan? She needs a doctor. At least let me give her some comfort,” Carlisle pleaded.

  “Hmm? Yes, fine.” Wallace had moved to one of the windows set high up in the wall and looked up towards the street.

  Carlisle crossed the room from the table to the sofa. He made his way behind Atwater and passed the knife into his waiting hand. Carlisle then sat on the edge of the sofa and stroked Olivia’s hair back from her face in a gentle manner.

  His mind was spinning. Hopefully, Atwater would be free soon and pass the knife to Thomas. Carlisle turned to Phoebe. “Your Grace, might I ask you to hold this bandage against Miss McGowan’s wound?”

  “Oh, y-yes. Of course, Duke Carlisle.” She walked over and knelt on the floor by the sofa. “What is happening?” She mouthed the words to Carlisle who gestured for her to be quiet and go to Olivia.

  “Listen, My Lady,” Olivia barely whispered, “I am not injured badly, but I will use this to distract.” She pointed at Wallace’s turned back.

  The Duchess nodded at Olivia’s words. “What should I do?” she whispered back to the girl.

  “Stay here by me, and let Duke Carlisle assist His Grace and Lord Thomas.”

  Phoebe nodded again.

  Wallace turned from the window. He seemed almost startled to see them and began laughing. “I daresay, if the ton could see you now. But they’ll see you all soon enough. Tomorrow when they come to this house and find you all dead.” He snickered. No one answered him.

  “You’re so good to care for me this way, Your Grace.” Olivia drew Phoebe to her and slipped a vial into her hand. Phoebe, having no other recourse, quickly pressed the tiny vessel into her bodice.

  “Oh, la. I am so thirsty. Mr Wallace, may we have some wine?”

  “No. I am enjoying this carafe. Drink the cold tea on the sideboard if you’re so thirsty, Your Grace.”

  The time was passing slowly. The six hostages said nothing, only waited. They waited until the perfect moment to strike back, each looking at the others in an unspoken conspiracy to take down their mutual enemy.

  “In fact, pour me another, Duchess Atwater. I fancy being waited on by the peerage for once.”

  Phoebe went to the carafe on the sideboard. She removed the cut glass stopper and withdrew the vial from her sleeve. Quickly she opened it and raised it slightly over the bottle. She tipped the vial.

  A hand appeared from nowhere and clamped around her wrist. Carlisle could see Phoebe’s flesh turning purple as Wallace forced her to drop the vial. He pushed her viciously against the wall.

  Atwater sprung forward and caught Wallace off guard. Wallace spun around flailing; the wine he’d drunk had gone to his head. He’d drunk too fast. Atwater squared off and hit Wallace with a right hook followed by an uppercut.

  Wallace came back at him, his pen knife unsheathed. Atwater deflected the downward thrust of the knife by knocking Wallace’s forearm away from him.

  “What did she think she was going to do? Save everyone? Save yourself?” Wallace said from the floor as he struggled to rise to his feet. He collapsed and fell to his back.

  “Brava, Robert!” Tom and Carlisle clapped, and then the three intended to join their female counterparts.

  *******

  Terence had been bound and gagged in the butlery. Almost an hour had gone by in which he’d been holding the bindings as close to the fire as he dared. But at least his hands had been tied in front of his torso.

  Once his wrists were free, he could untie his ankles and get help. He would scorch the rope and pull his wrists apart as hard as possible, then do it again. It was taking much time.